


Brothers Competing

by BrokenKestral



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Brothers, Competition, Fanon Characters, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenKestral/pseuds/BrokenKestral
Summary: Twenty-four hours. Two brothers. One winner.
Relationships: Edmund Pevensie & Peter Pevensie
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. A challenge

**Author's Note:**

> Real, actual disclaimer, not just about not owning, but: I tend to write Peter and Edmund a bit differently than I read them in some fanfiction, trying to keep them to what I think canon says. Emphasis on try. I may be failing miserably. Or I may be doing it and the stories don’t read as well as the other authors because I’m not Lewis and I don’t make them work as well. However, in this story, I pushed my usual canonical characters into the Woods Between Worlds to forget themselves for a bit, and adopted some fanon characters. I kind of had to, for this idea, which is part mischief, part nonsense, and part poking fun. Enjoy, if you can!

“I’m telling you, they’re rubbish.”

“And I repeat, _Leo_ and _Por*_ trained them. They can’t be.”

“They are.”

Peter set down the book he’d just picked up—a new one Mr. Beaver had recommended on fishing. He’d planned on spending the afternoon enjoying it, but his little brother, who had been hounding him to train more and who would doubtless make comparisons between the newly-trained twins and Peter’s own skills, seemed intent on spoiling what should have been an afternoon of peace. 

“Edmund,” the High King said calmly, “Oreius allowed them to join the castle guard. He personally vetted them. It is not possible for the Panther siblings to be so bad they ‘would lose a fight with a fish if they were half-drowned.’”

“Then explain how I got away from them within five minutes of them being assigned.” 

Peter let go of the book—he’d been keeping his hand on it, in the forlorn hope that Edmund would go away when confronted with such evidence—and used both hands to rub his forehead. “Perhaps if you told me how you got away, I could bring some kingly wisdom to the subject.”

Edmund threw himself into the chair across from Peter, hooking one arm behind the wooden back. _And Edmund thinks I need kingly training_ , Peter thought sourly. _At least I don’t lounge_. “We met at the market, and wandered around. I wanted to see how keen a Panther’s sense of smell was, and asked one of them—Salyte,** the younger one, I think, and the girl—to smell the fish and see if it was fresh.”

“And?” Peter inquired, when Edmund stopped. He suspected his brother might have had a more devious motive (in addition, of course, to the one he admitted) but he wouldn’t know for certain till Edmund continued with the story. 

“Sethen started sniffing the fish too, and both of them must have been hungry, because a moment later, they were fighting over it. While they were busy ripping it to shreds, I gave the merchant a coin and strolled back to Cair Paravel.” Edmund frowned. “I didn’t even have to try to hide; I could hear them fighting four streets away. I’d never seen a cat fight before—two cats fighting against each other, that is, not against our enemies.*** I don’t think even Oreius himself would have wanted to get mixed up in that. Vicious. And loud.”

Peter sunk a bit lower in his chair. “So you’re saying that two Royal, newly appointed guards, who should have been on their best behavior, devolved into such a vicious fight in a public market that even Narnia’s fearless general wouldn't want to break them up?”

Edmund grinned at his tone. “A perfect summary, my brother. Leaving out, of course, that I did find out Panthers have an excellent sense of smell, but as that is a minor detail… “ He settled more comfortably into the chair. “It’s been a most productive morning.”

“Only by your standards,” Peter grumbled. “Mine would be far more productive if the two of them settled their differences and came to remove you.”

Edmund frowned. “I am rather surprised they haven’t found me yet.”

“They’re _new_. They may not know yet to look for you wherever I happen to be.” Peter looked longingly at his book. “I don’t suppose you’d be up for training them?” he asked in a hopeless tone. So far, Edmund only showed an interest in training with Peter. Sure enough, Edmund shuddered.

“I’d rather not.”

“You could train them by leading them in a Cat-and-Mouse chase.”

“In what way do I resemble a Mouse? Besides, I like a _challenge_. They’d never find me.” 

Peter’s eyes narrowed. He was tired of his brother’s overconfidence. “I could make it a challenge,” he warned, his tone quietly threatening. Edmund needed to be taken down a notch or two. And… 

Edmund sat upright, his arm coming forward. “Oh?”

“Twenty-four hours, from now till this time tomorrow, when the bells toll ten. The two Panthers and I against you; if we find and capture you, you lose. If you stay free till then, we lose.”

“Parameters?” Edmund asked warily, but Peter could see his eyes sparking with ideas, and with the challenge.

“We can ask anyone about your whereabouts, but they can’t help capture you. You can’t go further than an hour’s walk—by our strides, not a Centaur’s—outside of Cair Paravel. Catching means we have a hold on you and you can't get away. And whether you win or lose, you have to take half the blame with the girls, for the fact that neither of us will be getting much sleep tonight.”

“Done,” Edmund agreed, already pushing himself off the chair. “But I get a ten minute head start.”

“Done.” Peter watched him walk swiftly out the door, turning left—which probably meant he was going to double back and go right the instant the door finished closing—and waited till the door was completely closed.

Then he calmly picked up his book and settled in to read. 

He could spare a few hours before beginning the chase. 


	2. Which is far too full of running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title I based on Talking to Dragons, the slightly-altered characters are taken from a hundred different stories, and the trouble I borrow wherever I go.

Peter thoroughly enjoyed his book. He also enjoyed the quiet afternoon without any interruptions from his younger siblings; none at all. He finished reading the last page and laid the book aside with a sigh, looking contentedly up at the ceiling. The last few hours, with Lucy visiting Mr. Tumnus for the day, Susan rearranging four storerooms to prepare for the coming winter, and Edmund staying out of sight, had been pure bliss. He didn't really want his younger brother to win the challenge, however—he'd made it to take Edmund down a peg or so, after all—so he heaved himself to his feet, stroked the book one more time in appreciation, and then went looking for any fuss or catastrophe happening in the castle.

Because Edmund was probably bored by now, and a bored Edmund was a havoc-wreaking menace.

While that meant Peter never had the _chance_ to be bored—ever—it also meant finding Edmund's general vicinity should be rather easy.

Peter paused in the hallway, listening. A very loud voice, angry by the tone, sounded like an echo of something pretty far away, which likely meant-

The High King strode to a window, opening it with a quick click of the latch.

"It is not seemly for the newest members of the Royal guard to brawl in the streets of Narnia like the criminals they catch! I accepted you in spite of your youth because you showed such promise, but by the Lion's Mane, if you ever allow your stomachs to rule your heads like that again, I'll imprison you with the thieving Squirrels and allow them to pull out your whiskers. A Royal guard…"

_That would be Oreius_ , Peter thought, pulling his head back in and shutting the window. _And those must be my new assistants._ He walked swiftly down the corridor and down the stairs, ducking through an adjoining room as a shortcut to the door to the courtyard, and soon was standing just outside the door. He waited politely to be noticed; he had no desire to undermine Oreius's authority.

Besides, the General rarely missed what was going on around him. He looked up from the two Panthers standing with downcast eyes almost immediately. "Yes, King Peter?"

"I was wondering if I could borrow Salyte and Sethen for the next twenty-one hours?" He watched Oreius's face fold in a considering frown.

"I apologise, my King, but I had been about to assign them to a punishment duty."

"If it helps, I am quite sure that at the end of the twenty-one hours, they would have preferred the punishment detail," Peter offered.

Oreius's eyebrow rose. "Indeed?"

"I'm taking them to chase Edmund," Peter informed him serenely. Oreius considered for a moment.

"Is this a guard-wide hunt?" Peter shook his head. "Just you and these two rapscallions?" Peter nodded, and Oreius sighed. "Very well. But," and he drew himself up to his full height, looking down on the statue-like Panthers, "if the younger King is _not_ caught, your punishment shall be the entire castle hunting _you_. Perhaps that would polish your skills. Your other instructions are to keep the High King safe—which includes keeping him from taking any unnecessary risks in the hunt. Do not fail that either, or you're demoted."

"Understood, General," Salyte whispered in a low growl.

"Dismissed."

The two were instantly on their feet and bounding away in black streaks that stopped right in front of Peter.

"Right," he said to them quietly. "Edmund isn't allowed more than an hour's walk outside of Cair Paravel, but I don't think he'll head outside. Still, we should send someone just to check."

"I know a family of Robins teaching their young to fly." Sethen stretched his front legs, allowing the claws to emerge and then resheathe. "They'd be happy to give the fledglings a treasure hunt as incentive."

"Good. After you've told them, go get yourself and your sister some lunch and come find us. We'll start looking in the North Tower." Sethen nodded and vanished through the doorway. Peter turned to the younger twin. "I haven't heard any upsets, which usually means Edmund is involved in a book. I think we should start with the library."

"After you, High King," she purred.

* * *

Peter approached the library door cautiously. If Edmund was hiding in the maze of shelves, books, scrolls, chairs, tables, and story-telling tapestries, it would be easier to catch him if they could get close without him noticing. He reached for the doorknob and pulled slowly, suddenly grateful Susan had made the two Kings and their guards take a break to oil all the creaking hinges, even if he hadn't been glad at the time. The door eased open soundlessly. Inside, lanterns on the walls and a great roaring fire lit the room. The entire area was warm and welcoming.

Peter tiptoed inside. The Panther behind him was as silent as any great Cat, which meant if Edmund heard them coming, it would be Peter's fault—and he'd never hear the end of it. Edmund would continually rib him about _more training_ and _I heard you coming!_ He peered around one shelf, looking down the aisle to Edmund's favorite, green-cushioned chair at the end. It was empty.

Peter moved forward, running through Leo's advice in his head. _Freeze if you hear movement. Creatures see movement far faster than shapes. Watch every step; always check your footing. A swift glance is better than a slow entry. Stay tense; stay ready to move and to be still at all moments. Know if your target will act as prey or as hunter. Know what they love, where they go, and what they seek for comfort._ He followed it as best he could, thinking about Edmund. Edmund was far more hunter than prey; he'd prefer advantage over safety, and so Peter glanced up.

There, sitting cross-legged on the top of a bookshelf by the wall, sat his brother. Edmund appeared bent over an open book in his lap and didn't seem to be aware of Peter at all. Peter grinned.

And then frowned. Catching Edmund _without_ injuring him seemed impossible. Unless… Peter looked back at Salyte and motioned her closer. She slunk forward, her glowing eyes fixed on Edmund.

"When we get close enough, can you jump to the top of the bookshelf?" Salyte frowned but nodded. "Then I want you to sit in his lap." Salyte blinked. "You're too heavy for him to dislodge, and he won't try to hurt himself getting away." The Panther began grinning, white teeth appearing under the stretched-up lips. She nodded, and stalked forward, and Peter couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine at her smiling hunt.

And it was then that everything went wrong. Peter saw the Cat—the graceful, powerful Black Panther—set her paw on a piece of paper, slip, and crash into a bookshelf, knocking it over. The books spilled out with a series of _thumps_ , the shelf itself crashed to the ground, and Edmund looked up.

His own book fell from his lap all the way to the floor as he scrambled to his feet, and Peter growled and ran forward. He jumped over Salyte, but she got to her feet in the same instant, and his feet caught on her back, throwing him into her soft side with bruising force. By the time Peter rolled off, Edmund finished climbing down the shelves and took off running for the door. Peter shoved himself up and ran after him, the Panther's heavy steps just behind him.

Edmund reached the door and disappeared through it, slamming it behind him. Peter ran into it, bouncing off and into Salyte, who caught him with one strong, gentle paw. Peter grabbed the handle and pushed it open, running through just in time to see Edmund at the end of the hall, and Sethen appearing in the door in front of him, his mouth full of fish.

"Catch him!" Peter yelled breathlessly, and Sethen opened his mouth, perhaps to yell back. The six fish fell over the floor. Edmund, running full tilt, couldn't stop himself and skidded over them, falling into Sethen, who also slipped on the fish he'd just dropped. "Catch him!" Peter yelled again, running down the hall, and four black legs tried to wrap around the younger King as he slid by. Edmund's momentum carried him out of reach, right through the door.

Coming up, Peter caught the echo of a "Missed me!" yelled back into the empty room. He dodged the fish and hurried through, only to find a hallway with four open doors.

"Salyte, towards the tower, Sethen, take the two rooms, I'm going downstairs. Find him!" He ran to the end of the hallway and listened, trying to quiet his own breathing.

Far below him, he could hear hurried footsteps. "He's down here!" Peter called back to the Panthers.

* * *

They chased Edmund for an hour and a half, up stairs, through hallways, asking bewildered maids which way the King had just run, and still the three chasers never _quite_ caught up.* Sometimes Peter tripped over one of the guards; sometimes they fell against a door and it slammed closed; sometimes they got within a hair's breadth, but Peter never quite made it. Somehow, Edmund always seemed a step ahead, hearing the Panthers coming, exiting a room just as Peter entered. It drove Peter mad. He knew that Edmund had a point, yes, he might have needed training, but Peter was better than this! This was meant to take _Edmund's_ arrogance down, not Peter's. _Perhaps I should have remembered that most former bullies learn quite a bit about chases and hunts_ , Peter thought over the thundering of his heartbeat. He gestured towards the door on the right and the one on the left, and the Panthers bounded into them, checking them as the High King ran on. _Not that Edmund is a bully these days. Just irritating!**_

A large crash came from the room he'd just run past, right after the cry for him that he'd heard several times when one of the Panthers almost caught Edmund. Peter spun, catching himself on a wall with one hand and running back.

Salyte lay on the floor, her large head caught in a glass bowl. Peter stared. He was pretty sure Susan used the bowl to keep pretty shells in, gifts from Narnia's sailors, but somehow, Edmund had pushed it over the great Cat's head. Both her front paws were pushing fruitlessly on it, trying to get her head out. Peter felt a push behind him and looked down to see Sethen beginning to laugh.

"Bowl got your head?" he asked between chuckles.

Though Peter couldn't see Salyte's expression that well through the glass, he was pretty sure she was scowling. A protesting growl rippled from her, and Peter moved forward. Pushing his fingers through the edge, he caught her ears with his hand and pushed them down, carefully drawing her head out. Looking at the great black Cat shaking her fur out, Peter felt a very strong urge to ask how a 10-year-old boy overcame a _Panther_ with a _glass bowl_ —a supposedly intelligent Panther—but Peter doubted that would be good leadership.

Though Edmund was apparently correct about the new guards needing training. _Mental note to bring that up to Oreius. Soon. I'm sure they're at least half the reason I'm losing so badly._

"Which way?" Peter asked instead, and Salyte nodded towards the door towards the balcony. Peter opened it at once.

There was no Edmund.

Not near the vine-covered railing, not in the corner by the wall, not hanging from the floor by his fingertips, and not even walking a ledge towards an open window. Peter looked up, noting there were no vines going up, which eliminated climbing, and then looked down.

The Just King was currently climbing _down_ the vines, with one, Peter breathed a sigh of relief to see, wrapped around his waist. He was already two floors down, only one more till he reached the ground. Peter reached for the railing, only to have Sethen slip between him and it.

"No."

Peter blinked, then raised an eyebrow. "If we're going to catch him…"

"General Oreius said no unnecessary risks, your Majesty," Salyte reminded him from behind, and Peter looked down at the ground in frustration.

"No," Sethen repeated.

"If we don't climb, we have to go another two corridors before even reaching the _first_ staircase!"

"Off we go, then," growled Sethen. And once again, the three were running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Making notes for my own benefit, so I can keep track, but also for those who are interested - this is now 2:30.  
> **Taken from Lewis writing that the Experiment House taught little of the scholarly arts, but a great deal about getting away quickly and quietly when They were looking for you.
> 
> A/N: Just a quick reminder, the Narnia writing challenge begins next month! Please visit the forum Adventures in Narnia at https://www.fanfiction.net/forum/Adventures-in-Narnia/228951/ if you're interested in participating, even for one day!


	3. In which Peter expresses his feelings with Leopards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title was taken from Howl’s Moving Castle, in which Sophie expresses her feelings with weedkiller. The rest of the nonsense sprung bubbling up from the mix stored in my brain, and I haven’t the room (nor do I wish to tax the reader’s patience) with a list of all the people things in this story could be attributed to. Shall we just say none of it is mine? Other than the nonsense, of course. I’m happy to claim that. 

By the time they reached the ground, the bells had tolled three.* Edmund had vanished. Peter looked around in frustration, barely resisting the urge to stamp his foot. Both Panthers were watching him, and if anyone needed a good example, it was them. 

The High King kicking bushes because he was  _ losing _ a challenge would not be a good example. Even if he was standing in front of the Panthers who let Edmund  _ get away _ and didn’t let Peter follow; Peter was the High King, and he would act as such. He took a deep breath, then began speaking his thoughts out loud.

“I don’t think he’ll go back to the library, since we’ve already found him there.”

“Unless he thinks you’ll think that,” Sethen pointed out.

Peter considered this, then shook his head firmly, pushing his circlet back in place when the motion dislodged it. “No, we caught him off guard there. He won’t want to go back.”

“So where to now?” Salyte asked, prowling back and forth with her tail twitching. 

“Now we do what any good King does when he’s stumped,” Peter said firmly. “We go ask for help.”

Susan was easy to find. Two of the storerooms she’d been reorganising were half as large as the Great Hall, and one was completely full of mismatched armour. The Dwarfs she’d invited to help were thrilled—in their own grumpy way, of course. The tasks included sorting out bashed helms and breastplates in piles to keep and to melt down. They’d added a third pile, Peter was heartened to see, of ones that could currently be used with no repairs at all. On the sides were growing sections full of swords to sharpen and shields to reshape. A Dwarf’s paradise. But it was only Susan’s tact and gentle firmness that kept them from fighting each other over the loot, and so she’d stayed. Since the Dwarfs were dedicated workers who did not stop for weather, friend, or food, Susan herself had skipped lunch. Peter waited till she settled a dispute between two Dwarfen brothers involving who saw a sword hilt first (she made them play witch, bear, human, and the Dwarf who won growled in satisfaction). 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, tucking strands of hair behind her ear.

“Looking for Edmund.” Peter paused, noting the tiredness on her face. “But I could stay and help, if you need it.”

Her face lightened as she smiled, grateful, but she winced as a loud clattering noise sounded behind them. Peter, turning, saw Sethen standing beside a scattered suit of armor. It had, most likely, been put back in one piece before the Panther touched it, and Peter refrained from rolling his eyes. Apparently, the brother was as clumsy as the sister. 

“The greatest help would be getting the two of them out of here, if they play pranks like that,” Susan whispered, her smile gone. Peter patted her shoulder reassuringly.

“They’re still learning,” he excused them. If the brother and sister could become anything like Leo and Por, Peter knew he wanted them guarding his siblings. But that would only work if Susan allowed it. “You haven’t seen Ed?”

“He dashed through here an hour ago, one of your Panthers following him, but I haven’t seen him since.” 

“Thanks, then. I say, Su, take a break soon, alright?”

Susan nodded absently, already heading towards the sound of raised voices in one corner, and Peter withdrew, the two siblings following. 

“King Peter! King Peter!” chirped a voice, and Peter turned just in time to reach out and catch a tiny Robin. It was the firstborn son of the Robin that had once led the Four to the Beavers’ house, one of the ones learning about flying. 

“You have news?” Peter asked at once, thinking perhaps Edmund hid in the woods after he reached the ground.

“Not, not, not of King Edmund! But something, something, something! Something in the woods! A song!”

Peter bit back a sigh. It had been too much to hope Edmund would take a route so foolish. Any Dryad, Bird, or Squirrel would easily pass on his whereabouts. 

“I’m glad you heard a song,” he told the fledgling, carrying it to the open window.

“Not a good song!” the Robin cried, and Peter paused. 

“Not a good song?” he asked back. Young Birds seldom criticised any song, viewing them all as good. 

“Not good! Not good!” The Bird’s feathers all began ruffling.

“Why wasn’t it good?”

“Too strong! Too strong! Not good!”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, smoothing the feathers with one hand. “Would you like to stay here, until the singers leave?” The bird nodded, and Peter stepped back inside the storeroom quickly, setting him on a sword hilt leaning against the wall. “You can stay here till you’re ready to fly again,” he said, pouring some of the water the kitchen had brought into an upside-down shield. He put the improvised bird-bath beside the sword and left, leaving the door slightly open so the Robin could leave when he wanted to. 

Sometimes, Peter thought wryly, being King got in the way of being the winning brother. And speaking of things that get in the way… Peter turned to the two waiting in the hall. “Go check out the woods with Leo and Por,” he told them sternly. “See if you can find anything that startled the Robin, just in case. And try to  _ learn something. _ ”

“But catching King Edmund!” Salyte protested.

“I might do that better by myself. At least right now. If I need help catching him, I’ll send someone to fetch you. Now off you go!”

The two Panthers growled and slunk away. Peter breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps  _ now _ he could find Edmund.

And then, after he  _ won, _ he could admit Edmund was right, and that the two needed more training. 

He set off for the kitchen. If Edmund hadn’t had lunch, that’s where he’d head. 

If Edmund had been in the kitchen, he hadn’t been seen by anyone Peter asked. Peter really hoped he was at least eating. Peter checked Edmund’s study, Edmund’s room, Peter’s room, even the girls’ rooms, but no Edmund. At that point, Peter decided to simply walk around and ask anyone he saw if Edmund had been in view. A few of the castle staff, having been asked at least twice, began asking others as well, and Peter watched with satisfaction as the entire castle began hunting for a glimpse of Edmund. A Centaur called down a hallway, “No sign of him, your Majesty!” before Peter even spoke a word to him. There were times the Narnians’ desire to help was one of the strongest assets a king could have.

And finally, two hours later,** their help paid off. A Horse had seen Edmund climbing the outer stairway, in the direction of the tallest tower. Peter thanked him profusely and set off. He had a brother to catch. 

He used the inner stair, knowing Edmund could see him if he came up the outer one. He was panting by the time he reached the top, and he leaned against the door to catch his breath, just in case he had to chase Edmund around the tower.

That’s when he heard the footsteps hurriedly receding around the outer stair.

“Oh, no,” Peter panted, slamming open the door to give chase. Both Kings kept one hand on the rail, their feet barely tapping the steps before they were half-falling onto the next one. Peter had the longer legs, however, and he was gaining. Step by step, he got closer, till Edmund was three steps below him. Two. One. Holding tight to the rail, only five steps left, Peter reached out for Edmund’s shirt collar with the other one. 

And a Panther slammed into Edmund’s feet. Edmund fell forward, Peter’s fingertips brushing his hair, onto one Panther body, then another. Both Panthers tangled up and lost their balance, forcing Peter to stop. Edmund rolled to his feet, looking back. His glance changed in a second from concern to glee. 

“Get him!” Peter yelled to the two Leopards standing just beyond his little brother, but Edmund shook his head.

“Can’t. Only you and the Panthers,” Edmund reminded him breathlessly before he took off running again. Peter stared after him and gritted his teeth. This was the last straw. He was done losing, and he knew why he had been losing.

“Leo. Por. Get the Panthers,” he commanded in a low voice. The fur on the black Cats bristled, though they made no move to defend themselves as both Leopards jumped forward, pushing the Panthers to the ground with one strong paw each and standing on their necks. Peter bent over them.

“You,” he said softly, “have been a hindrance since the start. I had been willing to train the both of you, but this, this is the last straw. You are no longer helping with the hunt; you are banned from coming near either of us. Tomorrow morning, you will report to the General, and he will punish you as he sees fit.” He straightened, catching the look the Panthers traded from the corner of his eye. He ignored it. He had had  _ enough _ . “Leo, Por, I will not break my word and order the two of you to hunt with me, but I do want the two of you to keep the Panthers away from me.”

“If you wish it, your Majesty,” replied Por, sounding slightly confused. Peter ignored that too. Por hadn’t been there all the times the Panthers had proven how inept they were. 

“I do wish it. I’m going to go get dinner. Get their dinner somewhere else.” And Peter suited word to action.

After dinner—which took about an hour,*** because the kitchen staff had all been called away to the courtyard by a story Peter was sure Edmund had spread so that he could steal food invisibly—Peter felt considerably better. He had not caught Edmund in the kitchen, but he was no longer hungry, panting, or followed around by two incompetents. He had a much better chance of catching Edmund on his own.

After all, he had a plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I’m actually not a huge fan of there being bells tolling the time in Narnia, because I’d like to believe they were less ruled by hours and minutes than I am, but they’re helping me track this story, so I’m allowing them in this AU. If any of you were even slightly interested in that.   
> **Five o’clock  
> ***Six o’clock


	4. In which traps are sprung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I’m just making up chapter titles now. Go me. I didn’t make up most of anything else.

Peter made his way up to the wall overlooking the forest road. He waited there for another hour,* looking for Lucy’s escort. Edmund knew Peter would welcome Lucy home; Peter knew Edmund would want to. And Edmund wouldn’t be able to resist trying to outsmart Peter and get away with welcoming Lucy somehow. All Peter had to do was keep a close watch over his youngest sister, and his brother would appear. 

The laughing, chattering group of Narnians appeared shortly before sunset, and Peter quietly hid himself behind one of the pillars in the courtyard. Susan came down to greet Lucy, hugging her and asking her about her day, and then Peter could hear Lucy asking where her brothers were.

“They’re up to something, but as that kept them out of my hair most of the day I haven’t inquired  _ what _ they’re doing,” Susan responded calmly. “It allowed us to get three of the four storerooms done, and that is enough for me.” She looked around. “Though it is odd that whatever it is kept them from welcoming you back,” she added, and Peter felt a little bit of guilt stir inside. 

“I believe it only kept  _ one  _ of us from welcoming you,” a voice retorted from behind a Centaur, and the surprised escort stepped aside, revealing Edmund behind him, gleefully bowing before smiling at Lucy. “Welcome back.”

Aaaand that was Peter’s cue. He moved as quickly and quietly as he could from behind the pillar to the rear of the group of soldiers, slipping between them with a gentle hand on an arm or shoulder, silently asking them to move out of the way. He got closer. And closer. Only two soldiers between them now. There were no Panthers to stop him this time. He brushed past the last guard and stalked forward.

But he’d forgotten his sister, standing right in front of Edmund. Lucy never could keep a straight face, and her eyes went wide. Edmund spun around.

He dodged to the left - Peter threw out his arm - doged right, ran into the Centaur, and slipped around behind Lucy. Peter reached for him, right over their sister, and Lucy ducked, but Edmund danced backwards, his eyes darting around the circle surrounding them, debating on running. Lucy’s escort milled around them, taking off armor, chatting with each other, crowded close around the three. Getting out would not be easy without causing a panic in which the Narnians—well trained in pranks—might grab for the younger King. This was Peter’s chance. 

“Lucy, out of the way!” Peter yelled, eyes fixed on Edmund. He was  _ almost _ within reach. 

But Lucy didn’t move. Peter risked a quick glance towards her, and saw with foreboding that her eyes were crinkled in laughter.

“What has Edmund done now?” she asked merrily.

“It’s a challenge. I have to catch him before 10am tomorrow.”

“Can I help?”

“Lucy!” remonstrated Edmund, but Peter was already shaking his head.

“The challenge is for me and two talent-forsaken Panthers to catch him. Just us.” 

“Where are those two, by the way?” Edmund interjected.

“They were more hindrance than help, so I sent them to a different task.” Edmund grimaced, and Peter thought triumphantly that there wouldn’t be an escape for him this time. If he could just get within arm’s reach— “Lucy, move!”

Lucy crossed her arms. “Then I don’t see why I should help you by moving out of the way, if I’m not supposed to help catch him.” 

“Lucy!” Peter said, exasperated, but darting around her. Edmund took that brief moment to dive under the legs of the Centaur. Peter, too tall to follow the same route easily, had to scoot around while muttering apologies. By the time he walked out of the circle of Narnians, Edmund had vanished.

Through the night, Peter tried two more traps. One he set in the kitchen, waiting for Edmund to come get the late night hot chocolate he always craved. (Peter found out later that Susan had brought it to Edmund as he pretended to be working late in the study off the far tower. Peter wasted three  _ hours _ waiting for him to come to the kitchen.**) The other he set around the armoury. He was guessing, he knew, but he thought Edmund might come there to sleep. One wouldn’t expect it to make a good place to sleep, but there were  _ so many _ places to hide. Peter and Edmund had found many of them while hiding from Oreius in the first weeks of their training, when they couldn’t do anything right. And Edmund had it worse, because he didn’t have a magic sword, but Peter had often hidden with him. Just because, of course.

And with that many hiding places—and that many places to accidentally make noise, as there was metal hung all over—it seemed the smartest place to sleep. Peter settled down behind three large shields, his back against the wall, and readied himself to watch. 

Only there was a small flaw in Peter’s plan. See, the High King had quite underestimated how tired he was from all the running throughout the day, how much of a toll frustration takes, and how warm the armoury was. He fell asleep. 

He woke many hours later as the sunlight rose over the walls of Cair Paravel and shone into the armoury. Peter blinked, completely confused. If the sun was that high, there should have been guards outside, practicing. It must be nearly nine in the morning—

And something else moved in the armoury. Peter heard the slight rattle of a sword being moved, and he sat up at once. A soft hiss hit his ears, and he grinned. He  _ knew _ that sound. “Edmund?” he called, his voice ringing through the deserted room. “Edmund, come out and play.” He stood up, wincing as his muscles protested. 

A clatter across the room made him forget and he sprang forward, jumping over the shields and running for the noise, for the footsteps that followed it. He saw Edmund vanishing through the open doorway and followed as quickly as he could, feeling his muscles warm up. An hour, he had maybe an hour left to catch Edmund, and he  _ had _ to, there was no way in all of Narnia he was losing this challenge. 

Edmund headed for the deserted stairs— _ the kitchen? _ Peter wondered,  _ there’s no way he could eat with me this close behind him _ —and then split to the left, heading farther into the empty Cair.  _ The storage rooms! _ Peter realised. If Susan caught sight of them, she’d send them both off to different places to keep them out of trouble, and that was exactly what Edmund wanted. Even if Peter didn’t listen, it might be enough of a distraction that Edmund could get away. 

Sure enough, Edmund jerked open the door to the last storage room and darted inside, Peter a breath behind him and words already forming to tell Susan he had to catch Edmund—

Only to freeze. Right before his feet lay Susan, her eyes closed, her breath stealing gently in and out, as if she were sleeping. Dropped in various places in the first third of the long, narrow room were Dwarfs, curled into balls or spread on their backs, many snoring loudly, and dotted around every part of it, some with items in their hands, were strange women, tall, dressed in white, with white wings and feathered arms, and bird claws showing beneath their simple white dresses. All of them had frozen, their heads turned towards the two Kings frozen in the entrance. 

Edmund, having entered a moment sooner, recovered faster, and knelt by Susan’s side, putting fingers to her neck. A moment later he rose and stepped back beside Peter.

“I think she’s just sleeping,” he murmured, eyes on the women. 

“They’re awake!” The words screeched through the room, the voice musical but the voice high enough to shatter glass. “Sisters, sing!”

Edmund’s eyes went wide, and he slammed his hands over his ears. “Sirens!”*** he yelled, and Peter clapped his hands over his own ears. The Sirens saw them do it and ran forward, clawed fingers outstretched to tear and rend. Peter darted to the side, picking up a sword and shield. The monster in front of him, seeing his hands off his ears, opened her mouth to sing, and he immediately began clashing the sword against his shield, drowning out her voice. In the corner of his eye he saw Edmund doing the same, and Peter ran to him, setting his back against his brother’s, both of them beating their shields while they waited for the SIrens to come closer.

Closer and closer they circled, and Peter brought his chin up, switching his mindset from hunter to hunted; from pursuer to brother. At a signal Peter did not hear over the clashing, the creatures all darted forward, and Peter brought up his sword, cutting, slashing, wounding wing and arm and side, always keeping his back to Edmund’s.  _ There were so many! _ Perhaps twenty-five Sirens circled them, attacking in groups, reaching for Peter’s eyes, ears, feet, and outstretched arms. He fought back with all the speed he had, but his arms began to tire. He was not sure he could outlast them, nor Edmund either. Yet as the shrieks and yells drowned out any singers, Peter saw with hope the Dwarfs beginning to stir. 

The hope faltered a moment later when three of the Sirens stepped back and began pacing from Dwarf to Dwarf, singing as they walked. 

It was then that Peter felt Edmund begin to fall away from him, and he turned just in time to see a Siren withdraw one clawed hand from his brother’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Seven o’clock. 15 hours left. I don’t know, guys, I think I’ll have to let the Kings sleep, because my imagination might run out or the story might get too long!  
> **10 o’clock. Yes, I am deliberately using the alphabet and then the numeric system to state time, one right after the other. Just because I feel contrary tonight. Though if it actually bothers you I’ll change it!  
> ***I’m taking as many liberties with the legends of the Sirens as I did with the characters of Peter and Edmund. Generally they had wings but not feathered arms or bird feet (Harpies have the bodies of birds with the heads of women), and their song drew men to them to be slain, not put people to sleep, but if I’m breaking all the rules already, why not break a few more?


	5. Better Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I’m pretty sure I read that chapter title somewhere...perhaps multiple times. Anyway, it’s not original, nor mine, and neither is anything else that follows. Oh, but I own the computer this was written on! I named it Tadashi, because my last computer was bigger and named Baymax.

Peter swung his sword in a circle, forcing all the Sirens back from his brother. He stood directly over Edmund, a foot on either side, and risked a glance down. Edmund had one hand on his side, but his other was still clenched around his sword. Peter sent up a silent prayer to Aslan. 

There was no way he could win. 

He cut at an outreached arm, ducked under another, and twisted the sword to thrust forward, praying nothing hit him from the back. A lunge, forward and then back. Strike up at a white, white wing. Breathe, steady. Twist forward—

And Peter saw to his horror that three of the Sirens had kneeled. They were reaching for Edmund. 

And then a streaking black shape slammed into the monsters, and feathers flew everywhere. A growl, then two, were added to the cacophony of metal and pain, and Peter’s eyes went wide as Salyte and Sethen joined the fight in a fury of claws, teeth, and lightning-quick jumps. If they’d been as vicious as he’d heard against  _ each other _ in the marketplace, they were  _ lethal _ now. He leaned down and grabbed Edmund, dragging him to a wall in a matter of seconds. He threw a shield to him and set himself in front of his brother, sword and shield ready. 

He did not need to do anything else.

The two Panthers worked with a synchronicity Peter had only seen in the very best, spinning, fighting, and leaping with perfect timing with the other. Then a set of roars echoed through the room, and Leo and Por joined in the fight. 

It did not last long. Birds against Cats was never a fair fight, and the four soldiers were infuriated by the human blood they could smell in the room, the blood of the Kings Aslan had sent. When the last Siren was silenced, the singing finally ended, all four turned towards Peter.

“Thank you,” he said to them, breathing heavily. He let his sword and shield fall, moving quickly to Edmund. “Let me see, Ed,” he said, pulling his brother’s shirt up. He grimaced. The claws had pierced Edmund’s side, deep but small. 

“It’s not bad,” Edmund said, panting. “Just—painful. I don’t think I’m that badly hurt.”

“You never think that,” Peter scowled, setting the shirt down again gently. “But the blood isn’t spurting, and you  _ might _ be right this time.” He lunged forward, wrapping Edmund in a hug. 

“Oi, Peter, get off,” said Edmund’s muffled voice, but Peter didn’t move, and Edmund didn’t fight him. Both brothers knew the helplessness of seeing a sibling fall in battle, and the strong desire to keep that sibling safe and close afterwards.

“Queen Susan,” said a deep voice from behind them, and Peter, leaving one arm around Edmund’s shoulders, turned to see Leo nudging his head under Susan’s arm, helping her to sit up. She was blinking and yawning, as if waking from a good night’s sleep. 

“I heard singing,” she said sleepily, “singing, and a voice commanding others to ‘Find the horn.’”

“We all did,” added a gruff voice, and Diggertaut the Dwarf got to his feet. “Looking for the Horn of King Dwarfsteele, most likely. It would have made their voices a hundred times louder. They could have sent all of Narnia to sleep, and killed us all as we lay helpless.” He looked suspiciously at the pile of metal and jewels to his right, stuck his hand inside and felt around, and drew out a horn almost as large as Peter’s arm. “Here it is. I think I was layin’ right over the opening.” 

“They sent the whole garrison to sleep, and the staff,” Por said to the Kings as he surveyed the feather-strewn battlefield. “Their music must have called them to the courtyard, and then bewitched them. If the four of us had not been sent into the woods, we would have fallen to their music as well.”

Peter sighed and sat down by Edmund. He still kept an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “And since we were already sleeping, we didn’t hear the call and slept right through Sleeping Beauty being enacted on our entire castle.”

Edmund shrugged. Peter knew it was a move half-meant to get Peter’s arm off of Edmund’s shoulders, but Peter kept it firmly in place. He wasn’t letting his wounded brother go anywhere. Edmund sighed and acceded. He even leaned into his brother, letting Peter take some of his weight because he was tired, grumpy, and in pain. 

Susan, having been helped to her feet by both Leopards, had begun instructing Dwarfs in cleaning up and calling for maids. Peter and Edmund were both content to let her handle it, feeling they’d done more than their share. Susan was more than qualified to handle this particular brand of chaos. 

Peter, however, was listening for a specific sound in the middle of the chaos, and as he heard it begin, he grinned. Reaching his other arm over, he pulled Edmund into his lap and held him firmly, giving him no chance to escape. 

“Peter, what-” Edmund began, and then he heard it too.

The sound of the bells tolling ten. He struggled, fighting against Peter’s arms, but his brother held him firmly, if gently, mindful of the pain in Edmund’s side. As the last bell tolled, Edmund gave up and slumped back. 

“That,” he grumbled, “was not fair.” He could  _ feel _ Peter grinning.

“I win,” the High King stated, quite pleased.

“Yes, you do, you cheat. And after all that work-” Edmund stopped short.

“We both worked hard. All that running?”

The younger King hesitated. “That wasn’t… quite what I meant.” Peter pushed him away till Peter could see Edmund’s face. Edmund shrugged, smiling ruefully. “I may… well, let’s just say a little bit more happened in the marketplace yesterday than I told you.”

“Like  _ what _ .” 

“I was just complaining that you were going to spend the whole day reading, doing nothing when you  _ should _ be training, and Sethen came up with this  _ brilliant _ idea, that Salyte had to expand on, that you should chase the three of us, but I knew you’d never go for that, so…” He shrugged again.

“So you came and taunted me till I challenged you,” Peter said flatly. He rubbed his hand over his face. “Seriously?”

“It was for your own good!”

“Then how on earth did  _ I _ end up with the Panthers?”

“Well, I knew one on three wasn’t fair, so I was going to leave the Panthers out of it, but Sethen pointed out you’d probably learn more with a handicap, and so I might have asked them to sabotage you.”

“So you set up our entire conversation to trick me into chasing you with their help.” The High King shook his head. He thought back to all the times he’d nearly caught Edmund, and how the Panthers had tripped him up every time. “They’re actually good guards, aren’t they?”

“ _ Really _ good,” Edmund said quietly. “And they’ve a sense of mischief that I appreciate. As well as marvelous acting skills. I would not be surprised if ‘cat fight’ becomes a common saying after their display in the marketplace.”

Other moments flashed through Peter’s mind—Salyte catching him when he hit the library door, Sethen holding his ground in front of the vines. Edmund must have really ticked them off there, climbing down before they could stop him. They might, in fact, be quite good for his brother. 

“You do realise your grand plot ended with both of us,  _ without guards _ , fighting twenty-five Sirens, right?”

“That’s hardly my fault!”

Peter sighed, pulling Edmund back and resting his head on Edmund’s shoulder wearily. “Please don’t do this again, little brother. If I hadn’t sent the Cats away, I don’t think this challenge would have had such a happy ending.”

Edmund didn’t say anything. Peter read in his silence everything Edmund couldn’t say, though—how he couldn’t make that promise, because helping Peter was one of the main duties he undertook as king, but he was sorry he’d worried Peter. 

“I don’t consider this a happy ending,” he grumbled instead. “I’ve got a few holes in my side, and my older brother is smothering me.”

Peter smiled, getting to his feet. He pulled Edmund up as well, slinging his arm over his shoulder and starting towards the door. In the corner of his eye, he saw Salyte and Sethen fall in behind them. “It’s a happy ending,” the High King disagreed. “I won.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Introduced in “Loyalty,” and as I think they’re going to show up for a bit, you might want to know who they are?  
> **Pronounced Sal-ee-tay, emphasis on the last syllable, if you’re wondering.   
> ***Credit to BellatrixTheStar, who prompted me a very long time ago to come up with a situation that leads to the expression “a cat fight.” This was not at all in depth (sorry, my friend!), but that might come out later in the story.
> 
> If anyone is curious, the original inspiration for this story came from “Cops and Robbers” by InkySpectacles on fanfiction.net, which is a Sherlock story about Sherlock and John keeping ahead of Mycroft. I found parts of it very entertaining, and decided to borrow the beginning plot. 


End file.
